


Cranberry and Peppermint

by MakeTheMoon



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Christmas party shenanigans, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Smut, mistletoe kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-15 13:59:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13032633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeTheMoon/pseuds/MakeTheMoon
Summary: There's mistletoe at this Christmas party, and Link reminisces on their past throughout the night.





	Cranberry and Peppermint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likeawildpotato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeawildpotato/gifts).



Link’s lost him, which is hilarious because he should be able to see Rhett’s head anywhere, but here he is, looking for his giant of a friend and unable to find him.   
  
He shouts over the music at Jen, who’s perched by the bar, asking if she’s seen him.   
  
“I think he went outside!” Jen shouts back.   
  
Link weaves his way through the crowd, getting stopped often to chat and meet significant others or friends. They had thought this venue would be big enough for the seventy people they had, but he’s quickly realising that they may have underestimated how large a crowd of seventy is.   
  
He knocks a couple Christmas decorations around as he squeezes past the tables, and he’s just about to give up when he sees a tall, dirty blond head appear outside the door. So he pushes through, eyes on Rhett, determined.   
  
There’s a small crowd outside as well, and he looks back in before closing the door. There are less than seventy people inside, and it’s still that packed. He makes a mental note to make sure they get a bigger place for next years Christmas party.   
  
He’s happy to see that Rhett is smiling big and bright, belly laughs cutting through the noise. His eyes are slightly glazed and he’s double fisting vodka cranberries. Link’s heart warms, glad Rhett got out of his usual pre-party introvert funk and into the spirit. He sidles up to Rhett’s side, nudges him with his shoulder, and his chest tightens when Rhett looks down at him with his hair tousled and cheeks rosy and smile wide.   
  
It’s a familiar feeling, something he’s felt for years - the first time he felt it was when they were 13 and 14 and Rhett took care of him when Link thought he had broken his arm. He had fallen while they were making their way to the river, slipped on a large rock and fell in between two other smaller ones. He had gasped and held his arm close to his chest and tried to keep the tears at bay, but Rhett ran back to him, calmed him down, asked him if he could move his fingers. Rhett had held his elbow so gently and extended it, and when Link was able to move everything and Rhett was satisfied, Rhett had looked at Link with a lopsided grin and said “be more careful, dummy.”   
  
Link had felt a rush of heat through him, starting in his core, and a tightness right over his heart. That was the first of many times, and Link has had years to learn what that meant.   
  
They’re talking about work now, of course, but Link lets it slide because everyone is having fun, reminiscing on stories from the past year.   
  
Rhett pushes one of his drinks into Link’s hand, so now he’s got a beer in one hand and a vodka in the other and he alternates sips. He knows he’ll regret it later, but he enjoys the warmth for now.   
  
There’s a commotion inside so everyone runs towards the door and jams themselves in. Rhett and Link bring up the back, slower than the rest. Link leans against the door jamb and feels Rhett’s chest against his back as they both watch the fake snow falling inside. They know it signals the end of the night, but they enjoy seeing their giddy employees and their loved ones trying and failing to make snowballs or snow angels on the hard floor.   
  
Much to his surprise most people are gone twenty minutes later, a few stragglers sticking around and trying to help clean up.   
  
“Hey guys, you can all go home. There’s a clean up crew here, so. Take off and get some sleep. Enjoy your holiday.” He doesn’t have to shout anymore with the music down low, but he finds himself back in work mode, speaking loudly and clearly.   
  
After another fifteen minutes the rest of the crew are gone and he and Rhett are packing up the last of their decorations, trying to figure out which are theirs and which are the venues.   
  
They’re standing by a table and looking quizzically at a centrepiece. Rhett thinks it’s theirs, says he can remember seeing it on the shelf in the attic of the office, speaking around a candy cane hanging from his mouth.   
  
“No, that’s that one over there,” Link answers, pointing at a table across the room.   
  
“No - wait. Yes. Are you sure?”   
  
Link laughs at Rhett’s drunken, confused expression and nods, goes to grab the centrepiece and pack it away. When he comes back to Rhett’s side, Rhett clears his throat pointedly. Link looks up at him, but when he doesn’t say anything Link has to prod, “what? What was that for?”   
  
Rhett makes a ridiculous gesture with his head, pointing it upward, and Link can tell he’s trying to be subtle. Subtle or not, Link doesn’t know what he means.   
  
“Rhett, what.”   
  
Rhett just clears his throat again and looks up, small grin spreading across his face.   
  
Link looks up but all he can see is a sprig of mistletoe, and he’s sure it’s not theirs.   
  
“That’s not ours, and besides you’re taller - you get it if you think it’s ours.”   
  
Rhett’s mouth drops open and his eyes roll, and before Link can ask him  _ what’s wrong now _ he feels Rhett’s arm around his back and his other hand threading through the hair behind his ear, warm breath ghosting across his face, soft lips on his own.   
  
It’s short and gentle, sweet, but Link feels like he’s been knocked off his feet.   
  
He licks his lips and whispers, out of breath, “what was that for?”   
  
“Oh my god, the mistletoe you idiot,” Rhett answers, exasperated, before leaning in and kissing him again.   
  
This kiss is longer, less gentle but still sweet, more body contact. Link lifts his arms and wraps them around Rhett wherever he can and feels himself cling to the fabric of his shirt at his back, feels himself pull the shirt out from under the waistband of his pants, feels Rhett step closer, flush along his front now.   
  
Link pulls back to look up at Rhett, but he gets stuck on the patch of skin where Rhett has unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his tie, and he can’t help but lick it, leans in and rubs his nose along Rhett’s jaw and sucks at his neck, nibbles at the tendon. Rhett’s breath hitches on a quiet moan and Link shivers. He runs his hands around to Rhett’s front, pulling the shirt out all the way around, runs them up his chest to his tie and using it to pull him back down for another kiss.   
  
He doesn’t know why this is all coming so naturally, why he’s so set on getting Rhett undressed, so set on feeling Rhett’s mouth on him. He remembers that one time in college, at a party with their girlfriends when they were playing spin the bottle. They spun on each other, and their girlfriends had egged them on. That kiss was cold, quick, chaste, and the only other time they’ve gotten close to something, the only other time they had a chance. After that, life had gone fast - exams, girlfriends, fiancees, wives, kids, starting a business. They hadn’t slowed down since then, since they were twenty, hadn’t stopped to think too much about it, about what they were to each other.   
  
All he wants right now is to feel Rhett, feel his friend, feel his skin and lips and hair. He wants to keep not thinking about it, keep pushing forward into whatever this is, keep acting on their impulses.   
  
Both of Rhett’s hands are in his hair now, petting him and pulling it, raking his nails along his scalp. Link almost sinks to his knees before remembering himself, remembering where they are, so instead he pulls at Rhett all over, contradicting movements - pulling his tie, pulling the back of his shirt, pulling his belt.   
  
“Wait, wait,” Rhett says, and Link’s heart sinks, his stomach lurches, his brain restarts in overdrive. “We gotta get these in the car and get the fuck home.”   
  
Link nods, smooths his sweater down, and they hastily pack their car. While Link is loading in the last box, Rhett’s on his phone ordering an Uber, and they lean against the hood of the FJ to wait - they’ll come pick it up tomorrow.   
  
It’s a long and silent few minutes, Rhett tapping his toes on the pavement and repeatedly looking at his phone and stuffing it back into his too-tight pocket.   
  
They pile into the back of the car together and Rhett asks if he can push the passenger seat forward for more leg room, fingers dancing on his knees. Link realises too late that they’re going in the wrong direction, not towards home but towards the office.   
  
Link’s hand darts out and stills Rhett’s, quiets the drumming. When Rhett closes his fingers around Link’s, Link leans over and licks the same skin he had been enamoured of before, between shirt collar and beard. Rhett chokes off a groan, and Link wants to play a game - what can he get away with in the back of this Uber, how far can he get before Rhett is swatting him away or audibly moaning.   
  
Going straight for the crotch is too obvious, so instead he tilts his head up and breathes lightly into Rhett’s jaw, taking his earlobe between his teeth and rolling it with his tongue, and he takes Rhett’s sharp inhale as his pass to continue.   
  
He squeezes Rhett’s hand one more time and then places his palm on Rhett’s thigh - low enough to not be totally inappropriate, but high enough that it wouldn’t be taken as “friendly.” He taps his own fingers on the inside of Rhett’s thigh, on the seam of his navy blue suit pants and when he looks up Rhett’s got his eyes closed, bottom lip between his teeth.   
  
It’s when Link’s hand skims up a little bit higher at the same time that he bites lightly at Rhett’s neck that he gets a noise, a barely audible moan, but enough that the driver might have heard. He quits, licking his own lips and resting his hand on Rhett’s knee, leaning his head on Rhett’s shoulder. He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to leave his side, wants his heat and softness and comfort.   
  
They get to the studio soon after and Link’s nearly asleep on Rhett’s shoulder. They fall out of the car and fumble with the keypad. He stumbles into the kitchen and turns the coffee pot on but doesn’t get the chance to wait for it. Rhett’s behind him, hands on his sides, running them up and down over his Christmas sweater, tickling and warming. His beard is on Link’s neck and his warm breath sends shivers down his spine, his arms. Rhett notices, chuckles a little and pulls him back, flush against Rhett’s front, Rhett’s hand on his stomach rubbing in small circles.   
  
Rhett pulls him back again, moving with him, turns him around and steps them to the side, pushes Link back against the counter. He’s enveloped in Rhett, covered by him, feeling him from head to toe. Rhett’s knee is knocking between his thighs, opening him up, and then Rhett’s mouth is on his again and he tastes like cranberries and peppermint and Link can’t help the small groan, can’t help melt right into Rhett’s arms. The kisses are still sweet, even with the added heat behind them, the urgency.   
  
Urgent, but not rushing. Link’s glad for that because all he wants to do is enjoy this, watch it all happen, take it all in. He doesn’t want to miss a single second, doesn’t want to miss the way Rhett’s arms are moving under his button up, his forearms twisting and flexing against the rolled-up sleeve, the fabric tight around his biceps. He doesn’t want to miss the quiet noises Rhett is making into his mouth, almost mewling, little kitten sounds. He doesn’t want to miss the press of heat against his thighs, his hips. Rhett is everywhere and he doesn’t want to miss a thing.   
  
He reaches up behind Rhett and pulls him close, slips his tongue into Rhett’s mouth at the same time. Rhett grunts at the mild manhandling, but lets it happen. Link runs his hands across Rhett’s back, the same way he had thirty minutes ago under the mistletoe, but this time they run down, pull at his shirt searching for skin, and he dips his fingertips into the top of Rhett’s pants.   
  
Rhett laughs and pulls away and Link almost regrets it, wishes he had left well enough alone, but then Rhett’s nuzzling into his neck, kissing softly and biting hard, one hand pushing Link’s sweater aside so he can kiss at the skin where Link’s neck meets his shoulder. Link sighs and he’s just about to dip his hands lower into Rhett’s pants and squeeze when Rhett steps back, still connected to Link’s shoulder with his mouth, grips Link’s hips a little tighter and picks him up, setting him on the counter.   
  
Link gasps and stares. He’s not sure how to react - Rhett’s never picked him up like that before. They’ve wrestled, they’ve thrown each other around a bit and tussled on the floor, but they’ve never fully picked each other up.   
  
They’re face to face, the counter adding just enough height for Link to look Rhett in the eye. He keeps one hand hovering around the top of Rhett’s ass but brings the other up to run his hands through Rhett’s hair. The sound he gets is enough to make him want to do this forever, but when he tugs - it’s more than a sound. Rhett’s mouth hangs open at Link’s throat, letting out a strangled whimper, and his hips jump toward Link, his hands clenching at Link’s sides.   
  
So Link does it again. And again. And when Rhett is a mumbling pile of limbs, not really doing anything anymore, Link grips his hair and lifts his head, slots their mouths together and kisses him. He revels in the slack way Rhett tries to kiss him back, and Link’s glad he’s got this on him, he knows a secret now, will use it to his advantage.   
  
Rhett’s hands had given up and are flat against the counter, holding him up, so Link shifts closer to the edge and wraps his legs around Rhett’s hips. It works, Rhett grips his hips and lifts him a little, pulling him even closer. The first press of Rhett against him is magical, heavenly, the best thing he’s ever felt, even through four layers of fabric and belts clinking against each other.   
  
Link moves his hands back to Rhett’s ass, for real this time, squeezes and caresses, and that gets Rhett back into motion. He’s rocking his hips into Link’s, and they aren’t kissing anymore, just breathing into each others space, foreheads pressed together, low groans being passed back and forth between them.   
  
Rhett grabs him, under his legs at the tops of his thighs and pulls, gives Link just enough time to wrap his arms around Rhett’s shoulders before Rhett’s stepping back again, this time with Link in his arms. He makes it to the door of the lunch room when Link starts slipping, so they end up against the door frame and Link stays like that for a minute, legs still wrapped around Rhett, letting Rhett and the wall hold him up, but he can’t wait anymore so he drops his legs and leaves Rhett with a kiss and quick bite of his bottom lip, and takes off towards their office.   
  
Shockingly, Rhett isn’t right behind him when he turns to close the door, and when he looks down the hall Rhett is nowhere to be found. Link heads inside and considers lighting the candle, then wonders if that’s too romantic, then wonders if that even matters. Rhett wouldn’t care.   
  
He lights the candle.   
  
He’s just about to open his laptop for some music when he hears Rhett shuffling towards their office.   
  
He comes in with two mugs, steam rising from both as he sets them on the table. Link can’t help but grin at him, thank him, grab his hand and pull him close, melting into that feeling again. Now he’s tasting cranberries and peppermint, and the room is filling up with tobacco, and Link feels nostalgic. He thinks about home, thinks about all those nights as a teenager when he wondered “what if,” then those nights in college when he did something about it, by himself in their dorm while Rhett was out, late at night, trying to stay quiet anyway.   
  
Now he’s got him, and Rhett is pushing him towards the couch, pushing him down, and groping around at every part of him. Link falls back, lying flat on the couch, dragging Rhett down with him, and he always thought he’d want to be on top, want to be the one calling the shots, but he loves the feeling of Rhett taking up all his space, loves the weight on him, the heat and scent of him.   
  
It doesn’t take long for them to get out of their shirts, Link’s sweater first, Rhett’s button up taking longer because Link stops to admire the way it looks hanging off his shoulders before finally pushing it all the way down his arms and tossing it to the side.   
  
Rhett’s been rocking his hips into Link the whole time they’ve been on the couch and Link was getting used to it, almost able to think clearly again when Rhett switches tactics and drags his hand down Link’s torso, tickling along the way, stopping at his belt for a second before dipping lower and palming Link through his pants.   
  
It’s almost hesitant and Link has to laugh - how Rhett got him this far, got him on his back on their couch, a candle lit for atmosphere, shirts off, and Rhett still hesitates to touch him. It’s all a little bit funny.   
  
Rhett looks at him, amused, before squeezing a little, grasping at his cock a little harder and that stops the laughing.   
  
“What do you want?” Rhett asks, voice low, rumbling through his chest and the room.   
  
Link snorts, says, “I think that’s pretty obvious, buddy.”   
  
Rhett squeezes again, says, “no, what do you  _ want _ ?”   
  
Link wants everything - he wants Rhett’s hands and mouth and cock and ass, he wants to try all the things he’s only ever had the chance to imagine before, and he wants it all at once.   
  
“I want your mouth on my dick,” is what comes out, and he surprises himself almost more than he surprises Rhett. Rhett’s face is hard to read, but the hands unbuckling his belt are clear as day.   
  
He lifts to let Rhett pull down his jeans and boxers in one motion, and they get stuck at his feet, Link’s shoes in the way. Rhett leaves them there and towers back over Link. He gently places his hand around Link’s cock, gripping harder when it twitches in his palm, eyes squinting up at Link and tongue poking out to lick at his bottom lip.   
  
That’s followed by his head dipping low, Link’s sight going from Rhett’s face and chest to the top of his head and shoulders, and then he’s bucking off the couch into Rhett’s mouth as soon as he touches him with his lips. He utters a low, “sorry, I’m sorry,” and soothes his hands into Rhett’s hair to prove it.   
  
Rhett clears his throat, mumbles, “it’s okay,” and when he sinks back down again he doesn’t put his hands on Link’s hips, doesn’t hold him down, just covers what he can’t reach with his mouth with one hand and holds himself up on the couch with the other. Link isn’t sure if it’s an invitation, if Rhett likes that kind of thing, but just the thought of it has Link teetering on the edge. He tries to move his legs, adjust himself, but his jeans are bunched at his ankles and the realisation that Rhett has him essentially tied up here forces the air out of his lungs in a long, low groan.   
  
He tests Rhett’s limits, slowly pushes up off the couch again and Rhett moves with him, lifting to keep him at the same depth. When Link’s back flat on the couch, Rhett sinks a little lower, taking in more of him, one of his hands grabbing at the side of Link’s ass now, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and Link hopes he’ll find four small bruises there in the morning.   
  
Link pushes again, just slightly, and this time Rhett stays in place and when Link feels his throat open up he quickly drops his hips back down with a loud, “fuck,” grasping Rhett’s hair between his fingers and pulling his head back, needs to stop the contact before this is over too soon. Rhett lifts an eyebrow and Link just wants to kiss the smug look off his face, so he does just that. He drags him up by his hair, enjoying the moan he manages to rip from deep inside Rhett, and their mouths meet violently this time, the urgency still there taking over the sweetness. Link can taste the small spot of blood where he had nipped Rhett earlier, so he soothes it with his tongue before biting at it again.   
  
Rhett shivers above him, and then he’s swearing when Link’s hands are at his pants, opening his belt and button and zipper, pushing them down. Link goes to palm his cock through his underwear, mimic what Rhett had done to him, but all he finds is skin and hair, grips Rhett’s cock around a laugh, says, “Really? Commando?”   
  
Rhett just smirks back at him, doesn’t give him an answer, growls when Link twists his wrist around the head and spreads his thumb over the tip. Rhett’s head falls onto Link’s shoulder and he adjusts to let Link get a good rhythm. There’s too much friction, so Link licks his palm and savours the little whimper Rhett makes, places his hand back on Rhett and strokes, working him up, gets him to where he thinks he’s on the edge and stops.   
  
“God dammit,” Rhett mumbles into his shoulder.   
  
Link kicks his feet, shuffles into a sitting position, pushes at Rhett until he’s up too and they’re struggling out of their pants and shoes.   
  
Rhett’s staring at the floor, at their pile of clothes when Link looks back at him and for a split second Link thinks he’s regretting this, just realising how far they’ve gone this time, but then he’s pulling Link into his lap with a grin and a smack on his ass, pressing their bodies fully together, mouthing at his cheek and forehead, neck, ear, and finally back at his lips. It’s gentle again, this kiss, just lips and soft tongues roaming together, and then Rhett says, “I thought about using my belt to tie your hands together.”   
  
Link nearly chokes on his own spit, his brain malfunctioning a bit, gets his wits about him enough to shoot Rhett a look, hopes it conveys what he wants - that that would be okay, that maybe they can try that some other time.   
  
Rhett finishes his thought, “but I like your hands on me, so I thought better of it. Maybe next time.” He punctuates it with a grab of an asscheek.   
  
Link groans then, grinds down onto Rhett’s lap, pulling a groan from Rhett as well. Their voices have always sounded great together, they know this, they harmonize all the time, but the two of them making sounds like this, right into each others mouths, this is new, and it sounds like Link’s new favourite song.   
  
Rhett’s fingers on his ass are creeping slowly inward, like he’s asking for permission, waiting until Link says it’s okay. His other hand is on Link’s cock, languid strokes keeping Link near the edge and loving it, just close enough to keep the heat in his belly, but not close enough to be dangerous.   
  
Rhett reaches to his left and grabs a bottle that Link hadn’t noticed he brought in, a small bottle of massage oil that they had bought for a massage episode that never got filmed, the idea being scrapped in favour of cuddling, something more appropriate. They both knew it would have been too much, that they wouldn’t have been able to handle massaging each other, even under the guise of comedy.   
  
It doesn’t matter now, no matter how much they fought it they still ended up here. They were always going to end up here.   
  
It’s dropped next to Rhett’s thigh and Rhett’s fingers are at Link’s mouth, pushing in, two fingers getting coated in saliva and pressing down on his tongue before being removed.   
  
He places his hand back on Link’s ass and grabs again, fingers brushing across his hole, doing it again when Link drops his head and gasps against his shoulder. He rubs the sensitive skin, doesn’t push yet, still stroking his cock with the other hand.   
  
He kisses Link’s ear and down onto his jaw, nosing at him to lift his head, so he does, meets his eyes for a second before Rhett’s kissing him again and pushing his finger in to the first knuckle, and if Link thought he was enveloped in Rhett before, he was sorely mistaken. That was nothing compared to the feeling of Rhett touching every part of him - tongue in his mouth, finger in his ass, hand on his cock. It’s exactly what he wanted, all of Rhett all at once.   
  
Rhett pushes in a little further, not slick enough yet so he removes his finger and coats his hand with the massage oil. He quickly gets back in place, rubbing at Link and pushing his finger again, and Link realises he’s shaking, his thighs trembling to keep him up at such an awkward angle. He uses Rhett’s shoulders to keep him steady as he shifts around, causing Rhett’s finger to plunge deeper still. He moans into Rhett’s ear, and Rhett pulls back and pushes in with a second finger, easier this time with the lube slicking him up, and curls his fingers. Link moans and grinds down, chasing the feeling, and when Rhett does it again Link swears he’ll do whatever Rhett wants for the rest of their lives, makes a silent promise to always make him feel good, always give him what he needs, because right now this is all Link wants.   
  
Then it’s taken away. Rhett’s using that hand, slick and wet with lube, to grasp his own cock and stroke, and using the other hand to lift Link, to pull him closer and lower him down. He’s just sitting, like this, just hovering with his butt nearly on Rhett’s hips and for a moment nothing happens, Rhett still stroking himself slowly, Link’s head on his shoulder and his hands gripping Rhett’s arms, and then Rhett nudges him, quietly says, “hey,” and Link sinks down, feeling a slight burn when the thick head of Rhett’s cock slips inside him. Rhett stops, stops everything, stops breathing, stops stroking himself, everything. Link lowers himself more, feeling every inch of Rhett slide past the ring of muscle and delights in the slow, quiet growl making its way out of Rhett’s throat, feeling his fingers gripping those same sore spots on the side of his hip as he did before and now Link  _ knows _ he’ll be bruised tomorrow, can’t wait to see those four purple dots lining his hip.   
  
Rhett’s filling him now, Link’s thighs have stopped shaking as he’s got all his weight on Rhett’s lap, and he gets it, gets why sometimes Christy will just sit, or tell him to stop for a second and sigh, blissed out look on her face. He’s sure he looks like that now.   
  
Rhett grunts at him, taps his hip and kisses his shoulder, rolls his hips minutely, just enough to let Link know what he wants - of course he wants it, that’s the whole point, but Link just wants to enjoy the feeling of being full like this, like he’s never been before. He rolls his own hips, just grinds in a circle, and he feels his heart swell when Rhett moans loud and unabashed, ending in a whine, breaths quick. Rhett pumps his hips up, holds Link down with his hands on his waist, once, twice, more, and Link nearly laughs because he’s bouncing, he’s actually bouncing on Rhett’s dick and his life just got so weird.   
  
He blows the hair off his face and that gets Rhett to look at him, removes one hand off his waist to wipe his hair off his forehead, wraps his hand around the back of Link’s head and pulls him in for a bruising kiss, teeth knocking together in time with their hips. Rhett moans again, “so good, baby, you feel so fucking good,” breaks away and lets his head fall onto the back of the couch.   
  
Link takes the opportunity to lick at the vein on his neck and remembers the car - the end of everyone else’s night but the beginning of theirs. He had thought they might make out, might touch each other through their clothes. He never thought he’d be getting fucked on their couch.   
  
He bites at the tendon, grips Rhett’s bicep with one hand while his other creeps up Rhett’s abdomen and chest, flicks a nipple and laughs when Rhett gasps, stops when his hand is lightly around Rhett’s neck.   
  
“Stop,” Link says, forcing it out - he doesn’t want to stop just as much as Rhett doesn’t want to stop.   
  
Rhett’s hips stutter but he stops, eyes opening, looking at Link through his half-closed lids and Link puts pressure on his neck, presses his fingers just this side of too much. Rhett’s eyes close again and Link’s rewarded with a thrust and a moan, his mouth falling open and his fingers tightening on Link’s thigh.   
  
Link leans down to Rhett’s ear, whispers, “I knew it,” and revels in the full body shudder he feels underneath him.   
  
He had nearly choked Rhett out before, in college, wrestling on the floor of their dorm. It had been one of the few times Link got the upper hand, getting Rhett in a headlock and applying a little too much pressure. When he saw how red Rhett’s face was he immediately let go, apologizing, and Rhett had brushed it off but he did get up and get a glass of water, Link still sitting on the floor. Link had thought he could see Rhett’s cock, hard through his boxers, but that didn’t make sense to him at the time, not something he had ever thought about, didn’t think someone could actually enjoy being choked. Looking back, he doesn’t think Rhett understood it either. It wasn’t until later when Link had started learning about the kinky world they live in that he put the two together and he had wanted to ask Rhett if it was what he thought it was, but could never find the right time - how do you ask your best friend if he’s into breathplay?   
  
But now he knows, and he’s got two secrets on Rhett.   
  
He feels like he’s got the upper hand, grinding around, wiggling in Rhett’s lap, and squeezing lightly at his neck. He doesn’t know how far to go so he makes sure to keep his touches light, they can figure out specifics later, next time or the time after that, they can experiment and research, so for now he’ll just play, keep his hand there and press on and off just a little.   
  
He feels like he’s got the upper hand with Rhett whining past the weight on his throat and his hips stuttering underneath him, hands clenching and unclenching on Link’s thighs and hips and waist, roaming everywhere.   
  
He feels like he’s got the upper hand until Rhett bucks, lifts his head with a growl, and pushes Link back and to the side, pushes him onto his back again with his hands safely behind Link’s head, rough in his movements but lowering them softly. Rhett grabs his thighs from underneath and thrusts, readjusts and thrusts again, and again, one hand making its way up to his head, in his hair and pulling, licking at Link’s chest. He flicks his tongue over a nipple and then bites when Link keens, fucking into him harder.   
  
Link feels like he’s going to fall off the couch, he’s getting fucked so hard he might actually hit his head on something, so he lifts his hands above his head and pushes against the arm of the couch, giving him leverage. The angle change is fierce, giving Rhett more room to thrust and opening Link up just a little more, all of Rhett’s cock fitting in like a glove.   
  
Link is muttering, he knows, “oh god,” “oh fuck,” “fuck, harder,” “Rhett please.” He knows he must sound ridiculous and needy, must sound like a cockslut, but Rhett seems to like it, reacting with each exclamation by speeding up his hips or slowing down and pushing harder and longer.   
  
Eventually Link’s words become noises, moans and grunts in time with Rhett. He notices Rhett’s rhythm is off and lifts his hips, welcoming the change and what it means, wants Rhett to get the best feeling, the best view. Rhett holds his hips up with one hand and finally, blessedly, wraps his hand around Link’s cock again. Link almost hadn’t noticed, figured he could have come like that, just being fucked by Rhett, and he was enjoying his own view of Rhett’s slack jaw and his hair flopping into his face, the muscles of his arms flexing under the skin. He was happy just to watch.   
  
Rhett’s hands are expert, slick and wet, large fingers wrapping tightly around his cock. He flicks his thumb across the head on the upstroke and lets the tip of his pinky graze his balls on the downstroke, and Link barely registers that he’s slowed down his thrusting to focus on Link, to focus on the task at hand. He wants Link to come first, the fucker, and Link knows it’s so he can hold it over his head later, use it to rile him up for another round.   
  
And Link doesn’t care, couldn’t possibly care less, loves the feeling of being used and can’t wait for the next round.   
  
Link’s head drops back onto the couch’s arm and he moans lowly and tenses through his orgasm, feeling some of it land on his chest and belly, most of it being used by Rhett to keep stroking until Link is swearing at him and twitching away, swatting at his hand and laughing at Rhett’s smug smirk.   
  
Link wiggles his hips and runs his hands all along Rhett’s body, clenching down onto Rhett during his last few thrusts and watches the show, watches what he’s wanted to see for years.   
  
Rhett comes with a gasp and a groan, loud and obnoxious, and it’s not the noise Link remembers, not the noise he’s known Rhett to make when he comes - he’s heard him jerk off, coming completely silently, and he’s heard him with girlfriends, hell he’s heard him with his wife, and this is louder - Link likes it. Loves that he’s got Rhett so undone that he’s forgetting himself.   
  
While their skin is cooling and their breathing is slowing, Link rubs his toes along Rhett’s ankle and plays with his hair. He finally notices how dim the lighting is, relying only on the candle, a dim lamp on his desk, and the cozy glow of the Christmas tree. It’s romantic and Link wants to shake his head and laugh, because of course it is.   
  
The room smells like tobacco, and that makes Link want to kiss Rhett again, see if he still tastes like cranberry and peppermint, so he does. He’s allowed, now, so he lifts Rhett’s head with a finger on his chin and kisses him. He does still taste like cranberry and peppermint, but there’s something else, and Link recognises it as come, cock twitching at the image of Rhett licking Link’s come off his own hand. How Link had missed that he has no idea, but he knows he won’t be missing it next time.   
  
He vaguely wonders if he’s going to want to kiss Rhett every time he smells tobacco now, and quickly answers himself with a  _ yes _ , and  _ I can’t wait _ .   
  
Rhett mumbles and sits up, wincing as they pull apart, stomachs sticking together. He reaches for a mug and hands it to Link, then takes the other. Link only gets a second to prepare for the taste, was expecting coffee but the scent of chocolate hits his nose a moment before he takes a sip and he’s glad. It’s late, he shouldn’t be drinking coffee right now anyway. He pulls the blanket from the back of the couch and leans back, lifting his legs and letting them rest on Rhett’s thighs. He watches Rhett sip his own drink, watches as he licks his lips and lets his head fall back onto the back of the couch, watches his chest rise and fall. There’s a mark on his throat where Link had sucked and bitten and he wonders how they’ll cover those up for the show because he doesn’t plan on stopping, wants to mark Rhett every time. A thought flickers in his brain, an image of Jessie biting at Rhett’s neck on one side while Link sucks on the other and he shivers, causing Rhett to look at him, smile, pull the blanket tighter around Link’s legs.   
  
Link falls asleep and when Rhett wakes him later the lights are off, the candle blown out, and Rhett is dressed again, sans tie and belt, shirt untucked and unbuttoned halfway down and he looks gorgeous. He thinks he could wake up like this every day and be happy for the rest of his life, never be cranky after a nap, would be a morning person every day.   
  
Rhett throws him his clothes and they’re still tipsy, at the halfway point between drunk and hungover, so he helps Link get dressed, helps him tie his dress shoes, and they shut down the studio to wait outside for the car to head home.   
  
They go to their own houses, groping each other and making out in the back of the car the whole way to Rhett’s house, giggling and singing Christmas songs in between.   
  
“Alright, see you in a few days, man,” Rhett says as he turns to get out of the car.   
  
“Yep, see ya. I’ll call you tomorrow?” He says it like he’s a teenager again, asking if he can call someone after their first date.   
  
Rhett laughs, a chuckle low in his throat, nods and says “yeah, call me tomorrow,” and Link is happy with that.   
  
They always spend the days leading up to Christmas with their own families, but Link can’t help but feel like they’ll fall back to each other this year, mingle together at each other’s houses, linger too long at the dinner table after the kids have gone off to play or watch Christmas movies.   
  
He thinks this Christmas will be different. He thinks it will feel like a first, and he can’t wait.


End file.
